Brethren
by Ananke
Summary: Some bonds run deeper than blood, and sometimes the 'collective' is all one has to fall back on.


Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and all related characters owned by Paramount Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

Note: ASC has seen this before.

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"I am curious..." 

And that was a knockout of a surprise. Wiping his hands off on the grease rag his former Borg crewmate gingerly held out, Tom Paris turned away from his prize car, peering across the room. "Well, what a greeting. First time back to Earth in months, and you only came for my expertise?" 

A sculpted brow rose. "The question could have easily been transmitted via comm, Mr. Paris. I felt that we would both enjoy the personal contact. I desired to see Miral. She is maturing." 

Nodding, he shut down the lights, letting the slanted sunlight shadow them. "She is. Very curious, too. Which brings us back to your question. Curious about what, Seven?" 

"I require your assurance that you will not...'laugh silly at me', as Naomi Wildman says." Hands retreating, she stood stiffly, looking absurdly Borg again despite the definitely relaxed civilian attire. Starfleet Medical had finally concluded what they had suspected long ago, that the tightly clinging exoskeletal catsuit was more safety blanket than necessity. She'd shed it with no small hesitation, but now had a sleekly tasteful wardbrobe of proportions he hoped to any listening god B'Elanna never found an urge for. 

Moving over to the garage mini bar and kitchenette, he put on his most relaxed face. "Of course not, Seven." 

She seemed to accept the promise at face value, sitting and accepting the glass he held out. "What is this substance, Mr. Paris?" 

"Tom, really." It had to be the umpteenth time he'd reminded her. So ridiculously formal, she could be. Defense mechanism, he suspected. "And its called Cola. Soda. A..." 

"Twentieth century beverage." She nodded slightly. "I see. It is...palatable." 

"I think so too." Smiling wryly, he met her eyes. "What did you want to talk to me about?" 

"I have been offered admission to a special Academy program. They would create an officer of me." She rubbed her fingers against the wall nervously. 

"You don't belong there." 

"You have not resigned your Starfleet commission." She sipped of the unknown substance gingerly, crossing and uncrossing her feet in absent repetition. 

He moved away from the bar, nodding. "That's true. I'm on leave right now, but sooner or later duty will call." 

"I am curious." She began again, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. If ever anyone was in danger of forgetting Seven's naiveté, her frequent bouts of plain childish querying smothered the idea quick enough. "I am fully aware of your former difficulties with Starfleet, both in childhood and during your early career. While the events of your youth are certainly nothing you held control over, and you have been reaccepted despite..." 

"Jailbird status?" 

"That is a derogatory term. I prefer not to use it in the context of our conversation." 

"But it's true, Seven, and I earned it. I've faced that. Maybe thats why I've been able to accept a lot of other things too. Starfleet and their policies included..." 

Her voice cut in, hard and unyielding. "The very institution that has repeatedly demarginalized your worth, when not shunning you completely." 

"You're not listening, Seven." 

"I am. I comprehend your intent. I fail to accept your remarks as your true feelings. If, indeed, they are, I am ashamed of you." 

Blinking, he sat down beside her. "So you're saying you've gone from support to recrimination IN support of me?" 

"You make this discussion entirely too difficult, Mr. Paris." Standing, she sat her own mug down. "We will continue it at a later date." 

"You sounded like her for a minute there." Grasping a black sheathed arm, he steered her back from the door. 

"I seek to imitate no one." 

"I know you didn't mean to. But you can't deny it...you sounded just like Janeway there." 

"I fail to see how our former captain enters into the relevance of the discussion." 

"Does Chakotay ring a bell?" 

She stiffened. "Chakotay is not the issue here. I came to you in friendship..." 

"Wow, Seven, a human term. I'm proud of you." Watching as she sat again, he rubbed his neck. 

Her eyes darted away, lips parting faintly, shouders compacting in a most unborg slump. "I fear that Admiral Janeway is not. This is why I came to speak to you. I require friendship." 

Pinching his nose, Paris screwed his mouth shut momentarily, holding back the laughter. 

"You are amused." 

"No." Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, meeting her indignant gaze. "No, I'm not. It's just...Seven, friendship is difficult to define, not packaged and dispensed upon demand. It's more subtle than that." 

"I see." Looking nonplussed, she glanced down at her hands, the pale, human frailty. "You do not consider yourself my friend. I understand. I apologize for assuming otherwise." 

"There you go again. I didn't say you weren't my friend, Seven...for God's sake, bump up that self-worth, no self-respecting Borg should ever look as dejected as you do." He sat, taking a hand. "Look, I understand your feelings. You're stuck between a rock and a hard place as far as Chakotay and Janeway are concerned, but it's nothing you should feel bad about. You fell in love. That's nothing to regret." 

"In referring to the love triangle I appear to have created between the Admiral, Chakotay, and myself, you are comparing it to your former feelings for the Ocampa Kes. I am aware that you sought her companionship in the early days of Voyager's tenure in the Delta Quadrant. Neelix was not pleased with the arrangement." 

"Every bone in his body was a jealous one." The pilot muttered, then grinned. "But neither of us got the girl." 

"Precisely. Admiral Janeway and I may both lose in this race." 

"With your Borg resiliency and her Janeway persistency, I doubt it. Chakotay might come out the worse for it, though..." 

"I do not wish to harm him. Perhaps I should accept her desires and follow the course she would have me take." 

"And besides dumping Chakotay, what would that be?" 

Her lips lifted in a smile, hard, cool, ironic. "Starfleet. It appears my situation is not so unlike your own, Tom." 

"You don't belong in Starfleet. And to be brutally honest, I'm not sure you belong with Chakotay...but it has to be your decision on both counts, based on your feelings, not Janeway's. She cares for you, Seven, but even she has her blind spots." 

"Involving Chakotay." 

"And Starfleet." 

"Then you agree that you do not follow the principles either. I would be ashamed to swear allegiance to an institution I did not believe in, Mr. Paris. It is a step down." 

"I have my wife and daughter to think of, Seven. Wearing pips for their well-being is a step down I have to take. You'll understand someday, when you have family...children...be it with Chakotay or someone else. Principles are very good, but you have to realize that sometimes the only means to your end is giving a little more than you'd like...and taking a little more bull than you'd like from the other side." 

She nodded slightly, resting her hands on her lap restlessly. "You are not the miscreant many continue to believe you are. Nor do you fully believe me capable of harboring completely human regard for others...you continue to refer to both I and my actions as 'Borg', though I am no longer such." 

"I don't mean it as an insult, you ought to know that...it's just usually first to mind. In a lot of ways you are still Borg, Seven. You haven't even begun to understand the full gamut of your emotions." 

"I understand that my heart aches when I believe I may lose Chakotay." She pursed her lips briefly, angling her head away. "Mr. Paris, do you ever regret 'losing the girl'?" 

"I think of Kes at times, sure, what our lives would have been like together had I pursued the relationship. You can never tell what you give up..." 

"Then it is fully possible I might in future years come to regret severing my ties to Chakotay." 

"...but I also think of the brilliant wife and daughter I have now. Had Kes and I worked out, Miral wouldn't exist. I can't imagine replacing her, even with another version of my daughter. Sometimes, Seven, being human means sacrifice." 

"It is inefficient." 

"It can be more fulfilling than you'll ever know." 

"I do not wish to know it, then. Weakness is not to be enjoyed. You contradict yourself, Tom." Standing, she moved towards the door, then turned. "But you are an acceptable friend. When Annika Hansen was a small child, she imagined herself a brother. His features, were, of course, subtly smudged. She could provide no complete relation to her hopes. The face is no longer smudged. In fact, it is remarkably like yours. I suspect that wherever Chakotay may wander, you will remain. I am grateful." Then, dropping the mug to the bar elegantly, she left, heels tapping a quiet rhythm against the sidewalk. 

"I'll be damned." Standing, Paris let a grin flicker over his face. 

---A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. _Proverbs_--- 


End file.
